Cary Clack: James Blair remembered for commitment to youth

Updated 12:37 am, Tuesday, July 12, 2011

The ocean that was James Blair was expansive and deep and washed upon the shores of countless lives.

People don't gather to marvel at a creek or share memories of the ubiquitous nature of a pond. But an ocean inspires awe with its vastness, power and the serenity its presence evokes.

The 51-year-old Blair, who was executive director of the Miller Child Development Center, collapsed while jogging on July 1 and died. The tides of emotion caused by his death fell hard on Second Baptist Church, where he was a deacon, during last week's wake and funeral services.

More than 150 of his fraternity brothers from Omega Psi Phi came in from around the country. One woman, struck by the "community of grief," said, "I've never seen that many men crying for another man."

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County Commissioner Tommy Adkisson, looking out at a sanctuary of more than 1,000 people, which didn't include the overflow crowd elsewhere, told the congregation he doubted he could attract that many people to his funeral even as a public official.

Blair's nephew, 30-year-old Remus Blair, wasn't surprised at the turnout, and the reason may be the simple explanation of what he said his uncle was about: "If he could help you, he would."

He did it with family and strangers. The Birmingham, Ala., native who grew up in poverty and became a basketball star at Wofford College in South Carolina, took an early interest in the plight of inner-city youth and the urban land mines that could easily steal their hopes and lives.

He became a father while in high school and never stopped perfecting the craft of fatherhood and offering that gift to others. He moved to San Antonio in 1993, and by the time he'd married the love of his life, Shawana Freeman Blair, in 1994, he was already raising a nephew, Lindsey Blair, now 20.

In 2004, concerned about the lack of opportunities in Birmingham for two other nephews, Remus and Rahstamond Blair, he moved them, their fiancees and their total of five children into the house he and Shawana were living in with their own blended families.

"He wanted us to have a fresh start, to start over," says Remus. "But he sat us down at the kitchen table and laid out a blueprint for us."

It was a two-year plan that included both couples getting married, the young men getting jobs, and the young women going to school. By the time that two year deadline had come, both men had good jobs, both women had graduated together from St. Phillips' College and both couples had married and were living in their own houses.

"He told us to not let anything get between us and our goals," says Remus, a VIA bus driver. "And when you reach your goals, set new ones."

During Saturday's funeral, when Remus got up to speak, he addressed James.

"I wanted to speak to him, tell him what he did for me," he says. "He's an inspiration to my life. My name isn't in the program as his son but he was my father. I wanted him to know that."

When the invitation to make remarks during the service was extended, a man in khaki pants limped to the altar and talked about being turned down for day care everywhere he went until someone told him to go see James Blair, who told him to not worry about the costs, that, "We'll handle it."

"I want to thank Mr. Blair," said the single father. "He was there for me."

A young tattooed woman rose to speak, calling Blair, "Our nanny, our grandmother, our mother, our friend. He made sure we were alright."

That's one reason why so many found comfort in this ocean of a man named James Blair: he was always making sure everyone was alright. His legacy, says Remus, is to go beyond pointing out what's bad and to, instead, ask the question, "What did I do to help?"